Triniad
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Shirousaki and Zangetsu are two facets of Ichigo's being. When confronted with the topic of his strength, Shirousaki reveals a way that will allow them to ascend to greater heights, even if it means destroying Ichigo's soul. Semi-AU.
1. I: The Overlord

**Disclaimer :** All characters and places belong to Tite Kubo, ©2004-2008.

* * *

**Triniad**

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"_Dim with the mist of years, gray fits the shade of power."  
--_ Lord George Gordon Noel Byron

"_Afraid of his own shadow."  
-- _Japanese Proverb

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**Chapter I**

**THE OVERLORD**

* * *

"Peace be of mind; the locust sits in noontide, the bird prays. South wind breaks throughEternity--_"_

"Still rambling nonsense, eh, old man?"

Zangetsu cocked an eye at the youth, his stubble face and tinted visor set in unbreakable stone. "Not so much as your pragmatic teachings, White One. Merely I am reading these stray thoughts which pass Ichigo's mind."

Though his back was turned to him, Zangetsu could feel the sarcastic smirk sting his metaphysical being.

"Is that so?" queried Shirousaki, amber discs wide with mirth. He twirled the eponymous Zanpakuto by its bandages. "Well then, I don't compute."

He swung the blade at the air, mowing down invisible targets.

Zangetsu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But you must, Shirousaki. Ichigo is wise, powerful. His pen is as mighty as his sword. Knowledge is strength from within."

"Then I must be his Son," the Hollow concluded. With a flick of his wrist the weapon returned to his grasp.

The middle-aged man turned to him, his dark brow raised. "His Son?" When the White One didn't respond, he added more urgently, "What do you mean?"

A corner of his pale lips lifted. "Look between your eyes, ossan. It's right in front of you. Ichigo isthe Father, I am the Son, and you are the Holy Spirit. He who gives, he who takes, and he who receives. We are the Progenitors of his existence, for without him we cannot co-exist. Without us, he will never succeed."

His teeth bared in a smile. "He will never be One."

Zangetsu exhaled, focusing his attention at the world around him. The sky was a splendid shade of azure; the clouds were drifting to an impossible end and the black, forsaken buildings to and beyond the horizon to infinity was assimilated and unreachable. It was always quiet here, nary a sound save for the wind's lonesome breath. No one else existed for the purpose of serving the Black One.

Except for him, the Laughing Hollow, the Node of Avarice.

"And do you believe, pray tell," he said, "that that is poetic justice?"

The Zanpakuto whirled in circles, singing an endless liturgy.

Shirousaki's smile exploded to a full-blown grin, a maddening motif that would devour demons whole. "Much ado about nothing, old man. We're just facets on a gem: the Giver, the Taker, and the Receiver. We're not at all dissimilar in any way. In fact, we're just about the same. We fight to live, to kill, and to die.

"But dying right now would be a waste of my time. It's unacceptable, and I'll be damned if Ichigo throws it all away! You . . . you, Zangetsu, live forever! You are transcendent! If I die it's over! I won't allow it!" As quick as his smile appeared it vanished, and marring his lips was a vicious snarl. Snow white hair bristled and onyx spirit ribbons shimmered an unholy glow.

Zangetsu watched the Hollow seethe, hidden eyes studying warily.

After a while the manic creature relaxed. Instead he moved to look at the darkly clothed man, his wrist moving in a calm and lax motion. Shirousaki widened his smile, causing Zangetsu to shudder.

"But you know what? I'm gonna change all that. I'm gonna change ALL the laws and the physics that has to do with death. Death will no longer be feared! Death will no longer apply to Ichigo Kurosaki!" His black tongue lapped across his mouth. "I will give him his cure. I will take away his poison. I will take away everything that he is and show the world what it truly means to be Shinigami!"

"How do you intend to do that?" asked Zangetsu.

"By starting off with THIS!" Shirousaki grabbed the guard, flipped the Zanpakuto into position, and lashed a Kuroi Getsuga at the spirit.

Zangetsu jumped off the misaligned lamp post, barely dodging the energy wave in time. He hit the ground in a cloud of dust, the window which he stood on rusted and cracked with age. Wheezing and coughing he placed a hand to his aching sternum, a pain searing and pounding with a livid fire. He opened his eyes, slowly, and beheld a sight most dreadful to his core.

Three spots of blood, a color of the richest wine, were splattered on the pane.

He felt very cold.

He whipped around, looked at the sky, and suddenly wished he had taken the blow.

High above the astral plane was a distortion of pure darkness, drinking every tint of blue and white for a half-mile. It was a thin cut in the space-time continuum, oozing inky smoke curling about the orifice. A gray, almost near black light pulsed unsteadily like the beating of a heart.

"First things first, we start out small," said the White One, pointing at the tear. "The spirit energy will take some time to accommodate, but given the state of its pressure I say the kenotic process will go along smoothly."

"Kenotic . . . process . . . ?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said I would cheat Death," said Shirousaki, his smile widening. "Tear one hole and the _reiatsu_ fades. Tear two holes and the soul slips away. Tear three holes and insert the common variable. When all else is gone, there will only be One. Either way I win!"

Zangetsu's eyes shot open, but the resulting action caused him to clutch his frantic heartbeat. He grunted and collapsed to his knees, his breaths deep, ragged, and short. Lost in his agony he barely heard the hole's erratic pounding.

The Hollow grinned cruelly. "Oh don't worry, ossan, you'll still live. The process won't be finished for a long while, so that'll give Ichigo enough time to train with the Vizards. Let him control me! Let him wash his hands of the blood of the many! In a matter of days he'll be machinated! We Will Be One!

"Until then . . ." he walked away from the broken figure upon the wall, his footfalls the only sounds echoing in the dead world. After he put himself at a fair distance he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Amid his sweat-stained vision, Zangetsu could discern the mocking leer of the devil, "enjoy yourself."

He turned his back and lifted the Zanpakuto, then struck at the emptiness embalmed in silence, mowing down targets that would soon be there.


	2. II: Gauntlet

**Disclaimer :** All characters and places belong to Tite Kubo, ©2004-2008.

_A/N: I'm back! It's been a long time coming, but at last the second installent of "Triniad" is here! Long story short, I got tired of sitting around and not watching the subbed episodes, so I apologize for the long delay. With the help of Manga Volumes 21 and 22 and Wikipedia I decided that the wait was long enough. Hopefully the characters are at least in-character._

_I've also listed "Triniad" as a Semi-AU in which the Hueco Mundo Arc (and Orihime's kidnapping) never happened, in case anyone wants to know where this story takes place._

_So please enjoy. Constructive criticism and feedback are welcomed and appreciated._

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**Chapter II**

**GAUNTLET**

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Shinji Hirako did not like the way things were turning out.

The Vizards were on the battlegrounds of Kisuke Urahara's underground chamber, taking turns on a Hollowified Ichigo Kurosaki. Kidou and _cero_ spells flew across the desert, blowing holes in the ground and cliff faces in quick succession. Debris, dust, and _reiatsu_ residue showered the land in a thin fog.

He and Hiyori Sarugaki watched the transformed Hollow from a distance. It had been brought to their attention the matter of the time it took for the Vizards to subdue Ichigo's inner beast. Not too long ago, Lisa Yadoumaru approached them with a strange query: that lately it seemed that their group's new addition was overcoming the Hollow much more quickly than she imagined. At first they shrugged it off. Shinji had said it was a good thing he was learning, that the faster he controlled the spirit the easier their job would be. There was nothing to be worry about.

For a while, nothing was out of place. Hirako and Sarugaki kept to the sidelines, their eyes fixed to the scene of dancing swords. They kept a stopwatch with them and started the time. Blood and chaos would dominate the furtive silence. Their fellow compatriots would proceed to beat the living hell out of Ichigo until the Hollow had enough and retreated. When that happened they would stop and glance at the watch's digital numbers.

**01:00:00**

**00:59:15**

**00:58:87**

Hiyori grunted, saying it was only a couple minutes. Shinji hummed thoughtfully, but he didn't think this was a problem. Nonetheless they remained vigilante.

A bony fist met Love Aikawa's cheek with a meaty _smack!_, sending the man stumbling away. As he was recovering Kensei Muguruma dashed into the fray, his Zanpakuto Tachikaze in hand. He unleashed the fully charged blade at his opponent, who held up his forearm and blocked it. They pushed against one another in a battle of wits, each locked in a steady equilibrium of power.

But as the days passed and turned into weeks, the Vizards noticed a startling change. Or rather, the Vizards saw a drastic increase in Ichigo's Hollow powers and Shinji and Hiyori found themselves clocking the end of practices at less than fifteen minutes. The fights were growing shorter, more intense and life-threatening, and the Vizards had been forced to draw _Shikai_ more than once. The two former Soul Reapers even had to jump in on numerous occasions, channeling their strength as they ripped the mask off Ichigo's face.

_SHIING!_

Tachikaze soared through the air like fallen glass.

Kensei gaped, a rictus of shock etched in his grey irises. The Hollow snickered darkly and pounced, elbowing his opponent in the chin followed by a flurry of punches. A vicious uppercut snapped Muguruma's head back as he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Not too far away Mashiro Kuna and Lisa and Love staggered to their feet, nigh depleted of _reiatsu_ and worn out, but not down. They ran as Hachigen Ushoda stepped from his hiding place behind the dunes and bound Ichigo's arms and legs in two strictly sealed Bakudo spells. He snarled and struggled, ramming his bound limbs against the ovaloid ropes in an attempt to escape.

Rojuro Otoribashi flashed into existence via Shunpo. Up in the air and his long, wavy blonde hair flying behind him, he recited Raikohou's incantation. Thunder crackled in his palm.

Those dark pupils behind the young Vizard's mask shrunk to pinpoints.

The blue thunderbolt crashed deafeningly seconds later. A mushroom-shaped cloud of dust and sand rose several feet before a gust of black wind dissipated it. Golden orbs dimly shone and narrowed through the microscopic particles. His bonds severed amidst the impact, he unsheathed Zangetsu in a clean swipe. One by one Mashiro, Lisa, Love and Hachigen emerged from the cloud, fencing him on all four sides, their Zanpakuto drawn.

What happened next was too fast for Shinji and Hiyori to follow save for brief flashes of steel.

"Look at 'im go," breathed Hirako, whistling lowly. "He's like a beast that just won't _die_."

Sarugaki snorted. "I'll make him if he starts picking us off. We need to stay alive long enough so we can put that bastard Aizen in his place. Like, six feet under."

"Now now, Hiyori. It's important for us to prepare Ichigo for the coming war with the Arrancars. Eleven seconds won't do him any justice."

"It's fucking laughable, if you ask me."

"Better than nothing at all, yes? 'Sides, we could use a mad powerhouse like him . . ." The blonde paused as a frown slowly found its way on his lips, "even if he's liable to become a threat." he added hesitantly.

"And then what? We kill him?" the small girl huffed haughtily. She plucked the toothpick she had been chewing between her teeth and tossed it away. "Soul Society'll be on our asses for that."

"Not unless we control him. His Hollow, I mean."

"Fuck, the way things are going it's gonna be impossible."

"I know," said Shinji, nodding. "Its behavior has gotten to be more aggressive ever since Lisa reported that first spike in power. That's why we need to find a way to restrain the Hollow from interfering with his battles or it'll be too problematic for us to handle."

Hiyori pursed her lips thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, she asked: "So Soul Society doesn't know what's going on, right?"

"Just us, and I plan to keep it that way." The lanky teenager clapped a hand on his blade's hilt. "I spoke with Hachi earlier. Asked him if he knew any Bakudo we could use on the Hollow."

"What'd he say?"

"Said he had an idea about making a special sealing spell. Didn't mention anything else 'cept that he just started on it."

"How long you think it'll take before it's finished?"

"Don't know. When it's done, I guess."

"Hmph. Smartass."

"Just statin' the facts, doll."

"Jackass."

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when the screams and shouts of their Vizards compatriots sprung from the core of combat. Shinji and Hiyori started to attention, one hundred years of instinct in the Gotei Thirteen surfacing to the forefront of their minds. However, the wind, created from a high pressure of raw _reiatsu_, shoved the pair back several feet.

Hiyori swore loudly, her voice drowned out by the howl of energy ribbons permeating the area, and stabbed her Zanpakuto into a crack in the ground. Shinji's fingers curled around the rock jutting from the cliff face and held on firmly. He squinted for a better look at the situation.

True to his word he saw Ichigo Kurosaki in the eye of his Hollow's demonic aura, on his knees and pulling in vain the sneering visage that was his mask. Zangetsu lay by his side, its own _reiatsu_, hissing and steaming like an endangered serpent. Around the redhead were the six fallen Vizards, unable to move a muscle amidst nature's manipulated fury.

Shinji creased his brow in anger. _'This again!'_ he thought. _'Damn Hollow, how much longer are you going to play this game?!'_ It was difficult to maneuver in the mighty gale, and it would probably be even harder the closer he got to the aura, but there was no other option to rely on.

It was either that or die.

He made up his mind then and there. He lifted his head and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Wait here, Hiyori! I'm gonna help him with that mask!"

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Crazy fool! You're goin' to get yourself killed!" But her words fell on deaf ears, for Hirako had let go of the wall and vanished from sight.

He reappeared in front of Ichigo, roaring with rage and frustration. Shinji stabbed the Zanpakuto into the earth and formed a skeletal gauntlet over his right arm. While holding onto the hilt with his left hand he reached out and grazed the edge with trembling digits. Energy sparked and crackled, forcing open a black and yellow orb to glare at him. The other eye, a russet shred of sanity, stared back at him through a glassy film of tears.

Making sure he had a firm grasp on the mask, Shinji directed his gaze toward his comrade's. He shuddered as it swept over the eternally malicious grin, but he reminded himself to focus, to subdue the beast within.

"Okay, Ichigo!" he cried. "Listen to me! We're gonna pry this fucker off of ya! On the count of three, I want you to grab the left side and pull as hard as you can!" A low, rumbling growl answered him. The blonde ignored it. "Alright. You ready? Here we go. One . . . Two . . . Three!"

And they pulled and pulled and pulled with all the strength they could muster. Shinji ground his teeth together as sweat dotted his forehead. Ichigo tugged feebly, groaning and grunting in between heavy breaths as he did so. The aura trapped them in its black wake, screeching with a madness unparallel and unlike anything the ex-Fifth Division Captain ever heard. Fear rippled in his heart and slithered down his spine, but Shinji Hirako pushed until the skin was slick and taut.

_SNAP!_

Kurosaki gasped loudly as sunlight warmed his cold, languid face. The reptilian armor he bore in his transformation crumbled to piles of white chalk and was blown away by a lone breeze. As his vision blurred, he could vaguely make out a hateful countenance in clouds of _reiatsu_ residue.

_'Thank God . . .'_ he thought, and his brown irises rolled into the back of his head. He fell forward and heard no more.

Shinji doubled over and clapped his knees, gulping in large amounts of precious oxygen to his lungs. Behind him he could sense his fellow Vizards' signatures approaching, but he paid no heed to them as they gathered around him.

Hiyori looked at him and the unconscious Ichigo, then at the dripping blood running along the curve of the white mask. She whispered two words that could only be described as disbelief: "Holy shit."

Hirako rose to his full height, his breathing starting to slow and calm down. Without turning to them he asked, "There anyone who can still walk?"

The battered and wounded Vizards exchanged pondering glances, but there was one among them who did not need to think twice. "I can, sir." said Hachigen Ushoda. Out of the eight in the group he looked the least worse for wear. Bakudo, it seemed, had saved his, and possibly everyone's life once again.

Shinji snapped his fingers and pointed at Ichigo. "Take 'im to the Urahara Shoten. Everyone else up to the surface." And before they could answer he sheathed his sword and walked away, tossing aside the Hollow mask as he went.

They did not stop him.


	3. III: Lunatic Nightmare Begin

**Disclaimer :** All characters and places belong to Tite Kubo, ©2004-2008.

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**Chapter III**

**LUNATIC NIGHTMARE BEGIN**

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"So how's he doin', Mister Kisuke? Is he any better?"

The aforementioned man closed shut the fan he tapped against the palm of his hand and stared at the inert form in the adjacent room. "Well for starters I can't say he's _good_, but I can't say he's _bad_, either. It depends on how you look at it."

"What do you mean?" asked Shinji, arching a brow.

"It's complicated, but I'll give you the short end of the stick." Here Kisuke motioned to the Shinigami substitute with a nod, where Jinta Hanakari and Ururu Tsumugiya tended to him under Tessai Tsukabishi's stern and watchful eye.

"You say something's going on with him," began the blonde Soul Reaper evenly. "Well, that much is true. I've looked into it, and from what I saw . . . it's not a pretty sight." He sighed. "It's his _reiatsu_. It's being -- what's the word I'm looking for -- replaced. Now before you ask, let me tell you. Tessai and I have found his circulatory system to be taken over by a virus made of black spirit energy; Hollow energy, to be exact. There are least three lacerations in his chest cavity where the malady's spreading and it's breaking down every bit of _reiatsu_ into nothing. The data we've collected shows us the first cut is the original source of the virus; this is where the virus slips into the blood stream. The second cut takes whatever's left of the spirit energy -- atoms, to be more specific -- where they're received by the third cut and used as an outlet to generate power from Ichigo's mindscape. Which means--"

"The fucking Hollow is extraditing his will on him." Shinji balled his fists. "That dirty rat! It's no wonder we've been gettin' our asses kicked. He's behind all this!"

"And it's going to get worse," said Urahara. At the blond's shock, he leveled a stern glare. "Hirako, why didn't you tell us about this before?"

"I wasn't intending to," countered the Vizard.

"If you did, we would have worked something out. We would've found a way to better suppress the Hollow."

"And by 'we' you mean Soul Society. Is that it?"

Kisuke frowned. "You can't hide it forever, Shinji. Sooner or later they _will_ know."

"But they can't! They can never find out! If they do, they'll strip him of his duty as Shinigami, banish him from Seireitei or try to kill him! We can't trust them to handle this!"

"Then how do you suggest we solve this?" The shop owner crossed his arms within the folds of his sleeves. "I have never seen this happen to anyone. If you can't turn to me or Soul Society for help, who will you ask for? I certainly hope you don't plan on going to Aizen . . . ."

Shinji snarled. "Hell no! I hold no love for that man, not with an inch of my life! If there's anyone I can go to, it's Hachigen. He's working on a spell that'll seal away the Hollow."

"How long will it take before it's finished? How long will it be before the virus completely takes over?"

"He just started it." Hirako bit, clearly tense and frustrated. "Can't you contain it?"

"There's not one spell I know that can do such a thing, and if there was I'd gladly tell you. For now we'll let Ichigo rest. I'll let you know if anything happens to him within the next few hours. If you'll excuse me . . . ." Urahara bade him a stiff bow and entered the infirmary, closing the shoji door behind him without a crack to peek in.

Shinji huffed and suppressed the urge to hit the wall. So there was nothing to it, eh? Nothing that the great scientific mind that was Kisuke Urahara could do to purge the Laughing Hollow, nothing Bakudo or Kido or any crap that could pull miracles from straight up the ass.

And what did it leave him with? A lost ally. A disadvantage. Defeat.

Aizen and his Espadas would rip them a new smile in their necks without Ichigo.

And there was nothing the Vizard could do to help.

He didn't see the point in hiding this conundrum, no point burying his anger and despair. Ignoring the voices filtering beyond the screen door, Shinji turned on his heel and walked away. Journeying to the other side of the shop he made his entrance in a large, empty room where his comrades lounged.

Rojuro was the first to speak. He lifted his gaze from the floor. "How is he?"

"Bad," the blond put it bluntly. He sat down and pressed his back to the wall. "And about to get worse. The Hollow made a virus to destroy Ichigo's _reiatsu_. Basically he's converting it to dark spirit energy so he can use it as his own and control his body."

"That explains the sudden outbursts," said Lisa in a calculative tone. "But . . . how is that possible? No mere Hollow is capable of such power, not even a Vasto Lorde!"

"Well, there _are_ a rare few that possess parasitic abilities," noted Love.

"What about Hollowification?" Kensei added sleepily. A lone iris squinted open beneath the bandages wrapped around his head. "He say anything 'bout it?"

"I asked him the same thing and he said no, it has nothing to do with brainwashing him to fit his needs."

"Then what the hell's that bastard plottin'?" Hiyori spat, scratching the gauze on her left hand. "The only way a Hollow can take complete control is if the person's soul is corrupted or you fuck with Aizen and his droogs. You can't just force your will on somebody."

Shinji rolled his eyes. "Apparently, this guy thinks he can."

"So where do we go next?" asked Mashiro, her voice low and hushed. Worry was present on her features. "I don't want Berry-tan to die. I don't want to see him suffer anymore."

"None of us want to, but it's happening," the Vizards' de facto leader said, a picture of solemnity. "Ichigo's losing a great battle. Nothing can be done about it. The best Mister Kisuke and Mister Tessai can do is watch for any changes. Until then, we wait."

* * *

Hachigen Ushoda hung to Hirako's every word as he told them of Kurosaki's condition and the virus that plagued him. He reflected upon the facts presented, upon the inner Hollow who wished to usurp his host's sentience, upon the thin balance teetering between life and death, upon the sealing spell.

When he had finished speaking, Ushoda pulled him out in the hall. "You said there were lacerations in the chest cavity, correct?"

Shinji nodded. "Yeah. I don't how he did it, but that's where the virus originates."

The large man adopted a thoughtful expression. He stroked his chin. "I have an idea . . . on how to proceed with the sealing spell."

The blond's eyes glowed at his words. "You do?!"

"Yes, but I'll need some provisions from Mister Urahara."

"Okay. Just tell me what you want and I'll let him know."

Hachigen did.

"Oh, and Shinji?"

"What is it?"

"Please ask for Lisa and Rojuro whenever they are available. I am going to start this project tonight, and I believe I'll need all the help I can get."

* * *

Tessai heaved a hefty breath and untied the apron from his back. "So . . . what will you do now? Will you tell Soul Society or will you leave the Vizards to their own devices?"

Urahara closed the door to the medicine cabinet. He stared at his reflection, grey orbs peering beneath his hat's shadow and stubble dotting the rough terrain of his skin. "I don't trust what they're doing. It's liable to put Ichigo's life at even more risk. I should have refused, but I didn't. And why not? Sealing two metaphysical souls within a corporeal body has bever been attempted, much less an ancient, forgotten art."

"And forbidden," added the barrel-chested man.

The shop owner nodded. "That's why I can't let it go any further. Old Man Yamamoto needs to know as soon as possible. If it means betraying the Vizards, then so be it. Ichigo's safety is all that matters."

A cold shudder slithered down Tessai's spine.

For some reason or another, in his heart of hearts, it could not be so.

* * *

Hours before dawn, the waxing gibbous moon lingered. The room and its occupant was bathed in a silvery, soft radiance promising stillness and tranquility. But all was not well for Ichigo Kurosaki, for sweat broke out on his brow and his breathing grew quick and ragged. He groaned, painfully reaching up to clutch his aching chest.

_'S-Stop . . . . Please, s-stop. N-No more . . . .'_

He opened his mouth in a silent scream. Muscles tensed. His heartbeat raced.

_'NO MORE!'_

In the mindscape, Shirousaki's lips split into a vicious grin as the rips in the sky robbed the world of color and meaning. The Three encircled the land, grey pinpoints pounding in their dark abysses. At the center of the kenotic process, Zangetsu was bound to a street lamp, motionless and unresponsive.

The White One lifted the Zanpakuto and caressed the blade's edge with his black tongue, lapping up beads of red to its razor-sharp tip. Amber irises shone as a lustful shiver of pure _reiatsu_ sluiced through his veins.

It was perfect! It was melodious!

_'I want MORE!'_

"The time has come, my little strawberry," cooed the Node of Avarice, his voice as sweet as sin. He slowly reared back his arm, aiming for the Second, the Taker. "Let the lunatic nightmare begin. Evolution is here."


	4. IV: The Perfect Killing Machine

**Disclaimer :** All characters and places belong to Tite Kubo.

* * *

**Chapter IV**

**THE PERFECT KILLING MACHINE**

* * *

The next day, on Saturday, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Hell was unleashed.

* * *

Kisuke eyed the hell butterfly perched on his finger with a guarded sense of reluctance. Why was he hesitating? Did he believe deep down this plan would not work? That Yamamato might not agree to forcibly stop the Vizards and instead negotiate to find a less painful, more passive means to save Ichigo Kurosaki? That there could not possibly be any hope to defeat the virus?

What was wrong with him?

Why did his heart clench at the thought?

Why did his breath shorten upon taking that next step, a bold step crossing the line, into the phase?

Why couldn't he bring himself to speak?

His free hand fisted the edge of the tatami mat. No. It would have to be done. It had to. If he didn't say anything soon (later, in a while, in a moment -- just when?), nothing would be done to help the poor lad. Ichigo would continue to suffer, tossing and turning in his sleep while the gods-damned kenotic process antagonized him and robbed him of his pure, powerful reiatsu.

His survival would be null, and his soul would be consumed by the Hollow.

He would be The Perfect Killing Machine. Born with that incredible, latent power, he would become unstoppable.

It was the one reason Kisuke Urahara could no longer wait.

Through the hell butterfly he heard Yamamoto's question repeat in his mind: "What is the emergency?"

He scratched his stubble, cleared his throat, and enunciated evenly: "Captain Yamamoto-Genryuusai, this emergency concerns the well-being of Deputy Soul Reaper Ichigo Kurosaki . . . and the Vizards' illegal practice of a long-lost sealing art."

* * *

No one heard him cry out.

* * *

"Wait. Run that by me again. How does this work?" said Lisa with her eyebrows quirked confusedly.

The trio -- her and Rojuro and Hachigan -- were standing before a slim black pillar. Atop the pillar was a small, round glass ball looking ordinary as ordinary could get. Behind them, papers dry or wet with ink were strewn across the table tops; detailing theorems and in-depth analyses on the technicalities of their forbidden project. Together they had been working, all through the night and into the morning, delving for secrets penned in yellowed scrolls or dusty tomes packed away in dark, musty corners.

Needless to say, she couldn't quite pinpoint whether the imperative passing her lips was out of logical curiosity or a lack of well-deserved rest. Either way, when this was over, she would proceed with the latter as soon as possible.

Hachigen indicated to the desk next to him, littered as it was with an inkwell, paint brushes of various sizes and textures, and cellophane-like strips of transparent paper. "It's quite fundamental, Miss Yadoumaru. We administer the charms from the volumes onto these wards, then graft them on the palms of our hands to transfer the amount of _reiatsu_ into this glass ball."

"What about the charms' calligraphy?" inserted Rojuro. "It has to be exactly like it's shown in the books, correct?"

Ushoda nodded. "Yes. It must be flawless. One mistake could prove fatal to both Kurosaki and the Hollow, or worse, kill the mortal host and advance the kenotic process. It should be in our best interest to add the charms as carefully and painstakingly as we can. This sealing ink dries fast, so we do not have to wait long. However, remember that once the wards are implanted you cannot remove them until you have given your portion of _reiatsu_. If you offer too little, it will not properly seal the Hollow and thus rupture the internal organs. If you offer too much, it will destroy the two souls."

"It's not so fundamental when you put it in retrospect," Lisa surmised rather bluntly.

"Don't forget; we're the first to ever attempt this sort of sealing in centuries, possibly millennia," added Rojuro. "It's perfectly understable for Soul Society to prohibit mysticism and its arts from the Soul Reaper Academy, what with the risk of attracting Hollows and whatnot. They're quite sensitive to the scent of contained _reiatsu_, which makes the sealing all the more perilous."

"Oh, but on the contrary," Hachigen prodded with a sly smile, "this method is the exact opposite. The glass ball acts as a counteragent to the Hollow's _reiatsu_. Think of it as a magnet. Positive and negative force cannot meet unless they are of equal force." The Vizard tapped a finger to the ball's unreflective surface. "Once this thing enters the mindscape, the negative _reiatsu_ -- the Hollow's energy -- will attack it. Coming into contact with the virus will corrode the ball's shell, but at the same time free the contained _reiatsu_."

Lisa pursed her lips to a thin line. "I see. It's a clever idea, Ushoda, but how long do we have until the Hollow completely takes over?"

"Of that even I am not sure. If we are to save Ichigo's life, then we must start right away. Not one second must be wasted." Here the rotund man picked up a lucid sheet, and dipping a brush into the inkwell, began painting the symbol with slow, sure, even strokes.

* * *

No one heard _him_ laugh.

* * *

They were two people on the opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. She, Orihime Inoue; bright, bubbly, expressive, and a healer of wounds -- both physical and mental. He, Chad Yasutora; calm, thoughtful, introspective, and a warrior of immense strength. As of all the people in the world they were different, but camaraderie and the similarities that their fates and abilities were shared and accepted without fuss.

They who were mere humans, but they who could control reiatsu -- pure, untainted spiritual energy from beyond corporeal reality. A gift beyond the mortal coil.

But today the afternoon was simple. As friends they walked through Karakura Town's park, enjoying the solitude and tranquility the park had to offer. A gentle breeze clandestinely whispering to green leaves. Shadows of a flock of birds passing overhead in an aquamarine ether. The _clip-clap_ of shoes on a paved stone road.

The day was peaceful.

Or at least, it should have been.

Something was off. Something . . . out of place. Chad was inclined to mention this, but there was no need to tell, for even the innocent Orihime reflected the tell-tale signs of curious displacement. Looking to and fro across the grassy expanse, it was as if she was expecting that something to make itself known in a tactical scare.

She was not worried, if one were to ask of her disposition.

But he was, deep down. Orihime was not the strongest of the group that had seen the other side of their realm. (The Quincy, Uryuu Ishida, it seemed, was on his own. In exchange for his returned powers he would have nothing to do with those Soul Reapers, not now or ever. Where he was at this moment where time was irrelevant and suspended on ghostly tension, none could say.) She was nimble and able in self-defense when it came to utilizing her shields and healing spells, but offense was not an advantageous point. An error on her part would result in the enemy gaining the upper hand and her downfall.

Whatever was out there, what was surrounding them, he would protect her.

He walked a little faster, putting himself just a tad in front of her--

* * *

No one felt the presence of dark, steel terror gripping in _his_ hand as he rose to his feet.

* * *

Even Shinji Hirako found himself to be a victim of this detachment. He stared out the window past the barren flat of the Urahara Shoten. Spidery fingers braced the pane, reaching for the piece of wholeness that had suddenly vanished.

_'What could it be?'_ The Vizards didn't know. Surely the Gods Themselves hadn't a clue what this anomaly could signify.

_'What could it be?'_

* * *

And on that day, when their actions were about to set the path to Ichigo Kurosaki's doom, the minute hand made one small step toward a monumental march through time.

It was four o' clock on the dot.

And Hell walked on bare feet.

* * *

_CRASH!_

"What the hell?!" Kisuke's head snapped up and over his shoulder where the sound originated. Accompanied with it was a broiling wave of black _reiatsu_ misting the hallway in its vapors.

"SHIT!" swore the man. He inadvertantly released the hell butterfly from its perch, snatched the cane that was Benihime as he stood and pounded down the corridor.

He skid to a halt when he arrived at the room. What he saw set his teeth on edge.

The Vizards, along with Tessai and Ururu and Jinta, lay along the floor, battered and bruised and bleeding. In the center of it all was the one person he didn't want to see. The one person inhabiting that comatose body.

Shirousaki.

His mere image sent a chilling shiver down Urahara's spine. He looked to be a demon mighty and terrible, clad in a two-toned (black and white) haori and hakama, his back turned to him adorned with the Kanji for 'God'. In his right hand was a rust-stained Zangetsu with nicks and notches all about the blade's length. Wrapped around his right arm and the Zanpakuto's hilt was a chain-link, and it was pooled in a puddle of cherry red atrocity.

Amidst the groaning of his wounded comrades, Kisuke hissed venomously at the Hollow, "You!"

Shirousaki glanced sidelong at the shop owner, bearing a sinister smile on his tanned face and in his black and yellow eyes framed by equally gold hair waving on an invisible zephyr. "You're too late, Geta-Boushi! Look upon Us and despair! We Are One and We Are Shinigami true to its Name! Death cannot touch Us!"

"Damn you!" Kisuke ground out, drawing forth Benihime in its Shikai form. "Let Ichigo be!"

The True Shinigami cackled. "Damn me? Damn me? It is YOU who should be damned, petty mortal! We will not let Us be, oh no. Not even when We denounce the sinners of Seireitei shall We let Us free. Not even when this world is under Our Domain, begging for Salvation and Mercy shall We be Free! We are the Giver, the Taker, and the Receiver; the Triniad of Body, Mind, and Soul! We Are Perfection!"

"You're insane."

Amber irises twinkled madly. "Insane, you say? We Are Enlightened!"

"You only want what you can't have. Ichigo's Power is not yours."

A wicked grin, wet by the slither of an ashen tongue. "Not for long." And rearing his arm back, he swung a blazing Kuroi Getsuga at a startled Urahara.

_'So fast!'_ he thought, for he was not quick enough to fend off the malicious energy wave.

_BOOM!_

Kisuke lowered his guard, noticing the shield of a Hadou spell dissipating to a sparkling shower of residue. He looked about the clearing reiatsu, searching for the demon's gleaning signature. But there was none.

Shirousaki was gone.

"Leave everyone to us, Mister Urahara," said Hachigen Ushoda calmly, who stood between Lisa and Rojuro, their weapons at the ready. Kisuke turned to the person who had saved his life, and saw that the Vizard's eyes shone with worry. "We'll tend to their injuries. Go and find the Hollow."

"That's exactly what I'm gonna do," answered Urahara firmly. Then, with a Shunpo, he flickered away.


	5. V: When Angels Die, Devils Rise

**Disclaimer:** All characters and places belong to Tite Kubo.

* * *

**CHAPTER V**

**WHEN ANGELS DIE, DEVILS RISE....**

* * *

He walked a little faster, putting himself just a tad in front of her--

"GETSUGA TENSHOU!"

-- and their world was filled with black.

Orihime screamed, or at least tried to. The suddenness of the blast had nearly knocked the air from her lungs, as Chad's left elbow jabbed abruptedly into her, thus eliciting a gasp of surprise and fear.

But thank her lucky stars, she now understood why the young man picked up the pace. Perhaps he foresaw such an event via mental signature and adjusted his position to take the brunt of whatever damage incurred.

She would have to thank Chad in the aftermath.

Her gratitude, however, was forgotten when the _reiatsu_ cloud dissipated, revealing the attacker behind it.

Shock and horror conquered her.

"Ichi . . . . go?"

"Today is a nice day to die!" proclaimed the half-masked Shinigami loudly. He bore Zangetsu's demonic blade for the mortal pair to see. "Don't you agree?"

"You're not Ichigo," Chad grunted as he lowered his armored right arm. "And no, we're not ready to die. Not this early in life."

Shirousaki barked a laugh. "What a shame! To refuse finality from the God of Death is a punishment in the quickest, most brutal manner imaginable! And as for him, my Father Ichigo, he is No More! I, Shirousaki the Son, had Ichigo and Zangetsu the Receiver merge unto my breast. I have become We; They have become Me. We are Death Perfection!"

Orihime stepped beside Yasutora, hands clenching and unclenching, her face contorted with uncertainty. "Why . . . why are you doing this? What did Ichigo ever do to you?"

"He did much to me!" Shirousaki yelled, snarling. "He denied my power! He refused my assistance! All those fights in Soul Society and this backwater realm wouldn't have been won if I never provided him my _reiatsu_! Without me, the bastard would be long DEAD! . . . _I_ would be DEAD!"

He swiped at the air with the Zanpakuto. "That's why I'm doing this. I captured Zangetsu, robbed Kurosaki of his spirit energy, and created a virus from his Life Chain so I could siphon my _reiatsu_ into his bloodstream. Do you understand? The longer I'm in possession of his body, the less time he has to live. In other words--"

"--Ichigo will die." Inoue murmured gravely. "You'll be in full control."

"That's right!" the Node of Avarice gave them a manic grin. "His soul shall part from the earth. His vessel shall be mine to exemplify the extent of my strength! Through this I shall be known not as the Laughing Hollow but the True Shinigami, the Perfect Killing Machine who even the Gods cannot dare touch!

"So to start off," he said eerily, amber irises narrowing, "you two will be the first to die!" He reared Zangetsu back, spirit ribbons at his feet indicating another preparation of Getsuga Tenshou.

"No!" cried Orihime, reaching up to her hairpins to activate Shun Shun Rikka. But Shirousaki was faster, and he lunged forward--

_CLANG!_

Steel kissed steel. Kisuke Urahara's arms quivered as they pushed Benihime against the manifested energy threatening to burst.

Shirousaki growled. "Bastard! You must really want to die."

"If I die, then so be it! I won't allow you further passage!" countered the bearded man. To Inoue and Yasutora he said, "Get to the Shoten! You'll be safe there!"

"But Mister Urahara--!" the Shun Shun Rikka user protested, reaching out for him.

"NOW, DAMMIT! You'll only get in the way!" Sweat dotted his brow and dripped down into his yukata.

"He's right, Orihime," said Chad, placing a hand on Orihime's shoulder. "Let's go."

She resisted no more after that. The pair slipped away into the green of the forest, the sound of battle ringing even as they faded the deeper they ran.

* * *

When they arrived at the Urahara Shoten, the pair found three of the Vizards -- Lisa, Rojuro, and Hachigen, to be exact -- administering their comrades with what salves and herbs they could uncover in the building, if the open cabinets and empty drawers were any indication.

Shinji, who was laying with his back to the wall, cast Orihime and Yasutora a sidelong glance, one eye hidden inside the bandages wrapped about his head. "I take it you've crossed the Hollow's path, correct?"

Yasutora nodded. "Yes, we have. Mister Urahara is . . . dealing with the situation as we speak."

"I'm not surprised," said the blonde gingerly. "After all, it'll be on his conscience if he doesn't hold 'im off. But . . . who can blame him? Kisuke didn't see it coming. Hell, none of us saw it coming. We thought it'd be a good while before anything serious happened to Ichigo. We didn't think the blasted cove of a spirit would make his move the moment we turned our backs on him."

"But he did wait," Lisa added on Hirako's behalf. She patted down Kensei's arm with a cloth doused in peroxide, a long, blood-caked gash running from the knob of his shoulder to the flat valley of his wrist. "He had everything ready right from the start. It was only a matter of time. Shame we had it figured out so late."

"What do you mean, Miss Yadoumaru?" Orihime queried.

"I suppose you have heard of Kurosaki's condition long before this debacle occured. The bursts of anger; the irregular breathing; the dilation of pupils; the exhaustion and fluctuating _reiatsu_ signature. Well, let's put it this way; you haven't missed much. If you will, I suggest you sit. It's quite a lot to take in."

And so she told them everything, of the Hollow's plan to subjugate the mortal's soul via the kenotic process constructed by the untapped reserves of his energy (i.e. the virus). With bits and pieces added by the Vizards and the shop's clients, they were eventually informed of Hachigen's incomplete spell and the banned sealing arts Soul Society frowned upon.

"The question is," said Chad, "if you can still perform it. Now that Shirousaki's soul is present in the living world, it would be easier to seal it."

"That may not be so," Ushoda reminded him. "From what we saw, he had a reign on both the Zanpakuto and Ichigo's body. Unfortunately, I fear the virus is at its strongest. Compounded with the living world's external influences and his free will, it may be nigh impossible to get up close and attempt the ritual. After all, the spell is intended to seal the spirit when it is dormant, not when it is awaken."

"What about altering the charms so as to seal the Hollow and Ichigo's Shinigami powers?" Orihime offered gently, if not hesitantly.

Lisa bowed her chin, features set grim. "There is that option. But . . . ."

"But that is, if not more, dangerous," the rotund man put in for her. "There is the slightest possibility that Shirousaki may reject the ritual entirely. The wards in the tome are so tightly put together; we cannot risk the chance of making an error nor can we afford we will come out of this battle unscathed."

"We also need Kurosaki if we are to wage war with the Arrancars." said Hiyori gruffly, who was seated beside Hachigen. "He has to learn to master his Hollow."

"It won't happen," Chad countered. "At this point in time I think it's likely Ichigo will never utilize his Hollow powers again. It'll be beyond his reach should the sealing be successful."

"We didn't come out all the way to this backwater town just to be refused!" Sarugaki rebuked, her voice raising to an angry timbre. "If we quarantine the bastard _yuurei_, the guy'll be in a perpetual rut! He'll never be on par with Aizen and his Espadas!"

"I don't like it either, but what other choice do we have?" said Orihime, a sad frown on her lips. "If it were up to Ichigo, he would have wanted his powers sealed." She inhaled deeply, grey eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "Because it's the right thing to do."

And it was with those words the Vizards realized this was no longer for revenge against the man who sealed their fates or penance for the evils lurking in the darkness of their hearts. This was for a boy who was one of their own, who -- in search for an alternative route to ascending to greater heights -- suffered for denying his inner demon the apple of his sins.

For him they would cast aside the chains of their past and free him from damnation. For him, they would forget their begrudging alliance with Soul Society.

With that decision made, they would forever change the future of Ichigo Kurosaki and the war as they knew it.


	6. Epilogue: Carbuncle Dreams

**Disclaimer:** All characters and places belong to Tite Kubo.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

**CARBUNCLE DREAMS**

* * *

It had been a successful endeavor.

Ichigo Kurosaki lay on the futon in the Shoten's infirmary, listening with bleary fixation as Orihime Inoue told him of the confrontation between the Vizards and Shirousaki. It had been a grueling task, in his opinion; opting to rely on Bakudo and Hadou must have been more taxing on them than the aggressive pattern utilized by the Zanpakuto.

The Hollow fought relentlessly, tossing wave after wave of Getsuga Tenshou to delay or interrupt the incantations of their spells, pushing them back til their guard was crushed. His _reiatsu_, it seemed, was without end, pressing the group to their very limit. Even Kisuke Urahara, who had held the demon at bay, was fighting an internal struggle to stay awake, functioning on depleting reserves with every movement made.

But as hard-pressed as they were, they had finally managed to force an opening in the True Shinigami's defenses, courtesy of Chad and Kisuke and his clients Tessai, Jinta, and Ururu providing heavy artillery. As they pounded away at him Hachigen Ushoda recited the trigger for the sealing protocol, resulting in its activation. The Vizards caught Shirousaki by surprise, their Bakudo binding and breaking from his monstrous strength. Orihime took on the role of suppressing the tainted _cero_ blasts fired their way with Shun Shun Rikka while the group repeated the process.

When Urahara had the Hollow pinned from behind, he siphoned the last of his strength into Benihime, her blade sinking into the small of his back. When Hachigen finished the spell's chant and plunged the device into his chest, hoping against all hope that the worse-case scenario would not become real, the outcome had been decided.

It was over within mere seconds, but their victory had come at a price.

Both Shirousaki and Zangetsu were sealed. Ushoda told her and Chad it was a last minute improvisation to prevent the possibility of another outbreak; the Triniad Virus, he called it.

His powers were defunct. No Shikai, Bankai, or Hollow Mask to emerge to his beck and call. In short, Ichigo would never be a true Shinigami. He would start over from the very beginning, wielding the blade that was a piece of his soul; a mute entity cradled in the palm of his hand, for Zangetsu was no more.

He found it ironic.

It had been some time since the crisis had been averted. Both Ichigo and Kisuke were recovering steadily (the former for the wounds on his body, the latter for _reiatsu_ exhaustion). Rumor was that Aizen and the Arrancars were mobilizing a full-scale assault on Soul Society, and the Vizards were constantly moving between communicating with the Holy Spirit Court on new information and keeping constant vigiliance over Karakura Town in the event the enemy war path changed.

When word had reached them, Ichigo rose from the futon and staggered to the shoji, prompting Orihime to ask, "Where are you going?"

One hand went to slide the door open, the other feeling the wall for Zangetsu's hilt. "Where else? I'm going to train."

"Train?!" the girl exclaimed incredulously. "But Ichigo, you still need rest! You haven't fully recovered."

"I can't rest," said Kurosaki. "They need me: Sandal-Hat, the Vizards, the Soul Reapers. Just because I lost my strength doesn't mean I'll stand by and watch listlessly." He brought the slim Zanpakuto to his bandaged chest, taking a moment to feel the coolness of the metal against his flesh. Glancing over his shoulder he added, " 'Sides, I'll find another way to get stronger. Nothing is going to keep me down. Not for long."

Orihime blinked, a sudden wave of epiphany blossoming within her chest.

There may just be hope for the future. Of that she was sure.


End file.
